


Certain These Clouds Go Somewhere

by ayatsujik



Series: Threads and Times [8]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayatsujik/pseuds/ayatsujik
Summary: Natori and Natsume discuss coming out, and Natori has an unexpected meeting with the Book of Friends' original owner.





	Certain These Clouds Go Somewhere

  
_And I know it's just a spring haze_  
_But I don't much like the look of it_  
_But all we do is circle it_  
_And I found out where my edge is_  
_And it bleeds into where you resist_

\-- Tori Amos, "Spring Haze"

 

The giddy rush of knowing that the boy he loved felt the same way about him lasted through the fall they started and the winter they continued. When spring arrived, he found himself shedding, along with his cold-weather clothing, a certain recklessness he'd been holding on to. Doubt built from a trickle into a current, eroding the mental defenses he'd built around it in the sweetness of their first months together.

What had he been thinking, really? Feelings or no feelings, why hadn't he tried harder to be responsible? Shouldn't he have given more thought to Takashi's position, and the consequences those feelings would bring? He made himself imagine the worst: it ended with Takashi losing the people he cared about most in the world, maybe even being asked to leave their home. Because of him.

He thought long and hard about what to do, what would be right. He knew what the world's answer would be to that. A small, strident part of him rebelled, constricting his heart: no, it said relentlessly, you can't give him up, he's the best thing that ever happened to you.

So you'll risk destroying his family, then, the rest of him fired back, equally relentless. Selfish bastard.

It started to affect his sleep. He'd just wrapped up another TV drama production, but he ignored his shiki's entreaties to rest, continuing to take exorcism jobs, advertising appearances, creating time and space between them. It helped that Takashi was also busy with the first year of his university classes, and that he still hadn't figured out how his newly-acquired smartphone could be used for constant communication.

His manager expressed similar concerns when he showed up on set after a series of white nights, joking that they'd need to put more makeup to hide the shadows under his eyes.

Have you gotten into a secret relationship, she teased, shaking a finger at him. Please don't cause trouble for us, all right? You know how the media'll react if it turns out you're _actually_ dating someone, whether or not it's anyone they claim you are.

Natori laughed back, dismissing her concerns with some vague reassurances to the contrary. But his manager's words cut a little too close for comfort. He knew she wasn't really joking.

Had Takashi also been worrying about the same things? He couldn't tell; he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary during the last occasions they'd spent together. Maybe he was getting old, in thinking like this, and in how the stress was starting to get to him. He vaguely remembered his own schooldays; he'd worried less about things like social norms and respectability, then. And Takashi was still a student, and still legally a child, old enough to consent or not.

They couldn't put off confronting this forever.

I should let him know, Natori thought.

  
*

"What are you thinking about, Shuuichi-san?" Natsume inquired. "There's a crease in your forehead - careful you don't get wrinkles."

He plucked a flower from the grass and threw it at Natsume, who dodged, grinning.

They hadn't seen each other for a month. Natsume had come over for the weekend, and was leaving for home that evening. They'd spent their last afternoon together walking in the countryside around Natori's family house, ending their hike on a hilltop clearing, flanked by a copse of trees. It provided a discreet and convenient lounging space. Nyanko-sensei, as he'd taken to doing on these occasions, had deserted them for his own excursion, grunting non-committally at Natsume's pointed reminder to be back before sunset.

"I could lend you an ear," Natsume said, touching his leg.

Natori half-smiled. "Please do." The smile returned to him was full and sweet, the kind that invited a kiss. But he only exhaled, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Takashi," he began. "The Fujiwaras - they don't know, right?"

Natsume's eyes widened. "Eh?"

"About us."

"No," Natsume said slowly. "No...I'm pretty sure they don't. Or they'd have asked me about it."

"What if they do ask?"

He waited, but Natsume had fallen silent.

Natori glanced at him; he was staring out at the surrounding hills, hands braced on the grass, his face sober, his shoulders hunched. The set of his body spoke volumes, and Natori listened, instinct telling him that anxiety and doubt had made their way here, too.

Of course Takashi had also thought about these things. Of course he understood what Natori was worried about. He made a silent apology in Natsume's direction, for overlooking how he'd always been older than his age, and how his foster parents meant the world to him.

Natori put a hand over his. "I'm sorry," he said, for want of anything better to say.

"No." Natsume shook his head, and squeezed his hand.

"No, listen," Natori said, squeezing back. "I should have considered your situation more carefully. I'm sorry this is something else you've had to hide from them, too."

Natsume shook his head again, a pained look crossing his face. "If anything's wrong, then I'm also guilty. I chose this, Shuuichi-san."

"You could," Natori ventured, and paused, thinking hard about the words to use. He tried again. "I would understand, you know. If you wanted to stop this."

Natsume looked up at him in shock. "What?"

Natori sighed, scratching his head. "You know what I mean."

"Are you saying," Natsume said, each word slow and cold. "Are you trying to say...that you want to leave me?"

" _No_. That's not it."

But hurt still clouded Natsume's face. Natori found himself reaching out, cupping it in his hands. He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, feeling the delicate brush of lashes against his cheek as Natsume blinked.

Natori shut his own, taking a deep breath, and focused. Around them the breeze rustled new leaves in the nearby trees; from somewhere in the distance came a bush warbler's hopeful trill.

"Takashi," he said, as gently as he could. "I wouldn't have met you without the Fujiwaras. And I know how important they are to you. So...I don't want to make your relationship with them difficult. All I'm saying is that, whatever you choose to do here on out, I won't mind. Don't worry about me, all right?"

Natsume drew away, removing Natori's hands from his face.

"But that's what I don't understand," he said, miserably. "Why are you asking me to choose between you and them? I can't do that, Shuuichi-san. I just can't. That's impossible. It's like wanting me to choose between youkai and humans. Why _wouldn't_ I worry about you?"

He sounded so young, then, plaintive and lost in a way Natori hadn't seen before. So he reached out again, folding Natsume into an embrace. He tucked his head under his chin and pressed his lips to Natsume's tawny hair, warm from the late afternoon sun.

"I don't want you to choose between us," he said softly. "But they want the best for you, Takashi. They'll probably be hoping that you'll find a nice girl, make a life for yourself the way they've done. Have children. I can't give you any of those things, and that's a fact."

"How do you know what they want?" Natsume asked, voice muffled by Natori's shirt.

Natori sighed. "A lot of adults think like that, I suppose. If I'd been more careful, I'd have - I wouldn't feel any differently about you, but I'd have gone slower, at least." He paused, and felt a pair arms slide around his waist, holding him tight.

"Touko-san and Shigeru-san want me to be happy," Natsume said, looking up at him. His gaze was steady, his voice low. "And I want them to be happy, too. So we'll find a way."

Natori made himself smile, as much as he didn't feel it, and stroked the back of his head.

  
*

  
That night he fell asleep relatively quickly, with a minimum amount of tossing and turning. And he dreamed, unusually; he seldom did. Even more unusually, he knew he was dreaming.

In the dream he was back on the hilltop he'd visited with Takashi that day. The surroundings had taken on a blurry, indistinct look, the colour of trees and sky gone insipid and faded. Only one thing was in focus: a slender figure sitting cross-legged on the grass, some distance away. It was a young woman, dressed in the sailor-collared blouse and pleated skirt of a school uniform. A curtain of fawn-coloured hair fell to the small of her back.

She turned, as if she'd heard him approach, and he heard himself exclaim in surprise. Her face looked startlingly like...

"...Takashi?" he heard himself say.

The girl smiled, breaking the resemblance. She was beautiful, with Takashi's delicate features, but her expression was far more impish. In a graceful, fluid movement she got to her feet, brushing herself off. Then she walked over, looking him up and down. There was an assertiveness to her gaze and the tilt of her head, an implicit challenge in the way she stood. He'd seen shades of the same in Takashi, too, but only when they'd argued about the proper way to engage with youkai. Fierceness was wound around this girl like a spring, contained and controlled.

"Hello," she said lightly. "You're his lover, then."

Natori stared at her. She laughed, a high, bright sound, and put her hands on her hips.

"You could close your mouth," the girl suggested, grinning hugely. "Oh, and obviously, I'm not Takashi. I'm Reiko."

Natori wondered what would happen if he pinched himself in a dream. " _Reiko_? His...his grandmother?"

"Correct," Reiko said, clearly enjoying herself.

He shut his dream-eyes, and dream-inhaled, holding on to calmness. No use getting worked up over something he wasn't sure he would remember in the morning.

"To what do I owe the unexpected honour of this visit, Reiko-san?"

"So formal," she chided. "Don't be a stick. Why do you think I would show up like this?"

"Well," Natori said slowly, persisting through the fog of confusion. "If you know who I am - and if you know about my relationship with Takashi - I'd assume it's something to do with him?"

"Smart, too," Reiko said, laughing again. "Not just a pretty face!"

Even in a dream, he thought he could feel his head starting to ache. "Would you be so kind as to let me know what it is about Takashi, then?"

In the next instant, she was right in front of him. Her face had gone suddenly serious, absent all trace of mischief. 

"Don't let him go," she commanded. "No matter what happens. You've got to understand how much you mean to him."

Natori swallowed, at a complete loss for words.

" _No matter what happens_ , do you hear?" She was glaring up at him, now, hard enough to make him want to look away. "Or I'll make sure you regret it. Don't think I can't hit you just because I'm dead."

He nodded, rather than attempt to argue or to ask for clarification. Her expression softened like a flower opening.

"Good luck, Shuuichi-kun," Natsume Reiko said gently. And then she, too, faded, melting into the dreamscape.

  
*

  
When he came to, it was morning. The first thing that swam into view was Hiiragi hovering above him, peering into his face.

"You sounded like you were having a bad dream," she said, by way of greeting.

"Morning," Natori said, rubbing his eyes. "It wasn't a bad dream. It didn't feel bad, anyway. Just...strange. Surprising."

Hiiragi floated down to perch on the end of his bed. "I sensed a spirit presence in here during the night," she reported. "But it didn't manifest, and I didn't sense any ill intent."

Natori nodded, running a hand through his hair. "That's fine, Hiiragi. I think we're all right."

"Are you sure, master?"

"No," he said truthfully. "I'm not. But we'll find a way."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next story: The Fujiwaras ask.


End file.
